We Are the Ark
by goldenquilled
Summary: Masky thought he had tied up all the loose ends. He thought all his problems had been resolved, and that Tim was finally gone. He thought training Ticci Toby would be no more than a minor inconvenience to him. He thought he was free. But if that is true, then why are all his allies dropping like flies?
1. Fire

The forest was on fire.

"So this is the kind of stuff you're into?" asked the man. His eyes squinted slightly from the brightness of the frenzied inferno.

The second man shrugged. "I guess."

"Fair enough," he said in reply. "It is beautiful. I mean, in a sort of 'oh-god-we're-going-to-die' kind of way." He chuckled quietly, inhaling the thick black smoke.

The second man glanced to the first with an accusing eye. "Yeah Like _you're _one to judge."

The first man smiled. "Yeah, I guess I'm being a hypocrite," he admitted as small flames began to lick at his ankles. "I really do think it's beautiful, though. You really are an artist."

An amber attached itself to the second man's jacket, sparking a small flame. He watched as it slowly began to grow in size, burning a hole in the sleeve, before dying out. "I'm not an artist anymore."

A sigh. The first shook his head. "Yeah, I know," he said in disappointment, "but that doesn't mean you don't have the talent. I mean, just look around," he gestured his arm to the blazing forest that surrounded them.

A large, burning branch fell, just barely missing the second. He didn't flinch. "Yeah, but who would pay attention?" he asked with pessimism.

He responded with a friendly smile. "I would. I'm doing it right now, aren't I?" he asked in a gentle tone. A large amber landed on his hair. He patted the area before the flame could spread.

But the second frowned. "You know that's a lie."

The grass they stood upon turned bright orange, then black. "Not exactly," said the first, still smiling. He was very good at smiling. It was always genuine.

The second crossed his arms, hugging his body in discomfort. "If I left this place and played one of my songs, you wouldn't listen."

He crossed his arms as well, mimicking his posture. "Yes I would."

The second sighed at the other man's childishness. "You're lying." The thick smoke felt suffocating against his throat. He ignored the sensation.

The soft smile morphed into a cheeky grin. "Not exactly," he echoed himself. It was becoming difficult for the pair to see each other over the forking flames. He batted them away.

Another sigh. The second said nothing in reply. He knew very much of the first's stubbornness. He watched as his fire began to encompass them. His clothes were burning off his skin.

The first did the same, but continued to speak. "You know, I wish you would play your songs more. Even if you think nobody listens."

The second reached his hand outward, and started petting a nearby flame. "You don't like my fire?" he asked jokingly as he twisted the flame around his fingers.

Watching him do this, the first replied, "I _love _your fire. Better than the real thing, I'd say. But... well, it's not real." Dried wood snapped loudly as the trees began to topple over.

Still playing with his fire, he gave the second a look. "Neither are you..." he stated, a tone of sadness lurking in his voice.

Then, inexplicably, the first began to laugh. It was a loud, warm laugh that always felt so infectious. As he laughed, lingering ashed found their way into his throat, along with the blackened smoke.

"Not exactly," he said as the fire consumed them both.


	2. Chapter 1

It still didn't feel like it was over.

The room was as dark as it always was. Expected, as there was no real sun to begin with. Luckily, he had learned to tell the differences of time in this world many years ago.

It was midday.

He closed his eyes, pushing deeper into the blankets. He'd slept for one unimpressive hour that night. Unlike now, sleep was not a delicacy he could often afford to have.

But now it was noon, and he was in bed - his bed - just counting the number of breaths it took before he fell back asleep. Everything about him felt awake and alert. He needed to move, to work, to serve, anything besides just lying there uselessly.

But he was told to rest, and rest he would.

His Master, with much graciousness, had granted him one weeks leave, provided he stay within the castle. Some of his allies had argued that this time was insufficient, considering the amount of work he had been doing over the past years. But he didn't mind. He never did. For as he lay there, begging for sleep to embrace him, he couldn't help but hate every last moment of it.

He needed to do something. He needed to be productive. He needed a distraction. But above all else, he needed to obey his Master, and that trumped all other necessities.

And he had to follow the doctors orders. One of the castles temporary residents had lectured him on the importance of sleep countless times. He wasn't sure why he even cared. The day prior, he had protested the nagging, arguing that he is not a true human and therefore did not need sleep. The monster's remark had been strong and stern, like a parent to a child.

He said, "Masky, I don't care what you call yourself. But you and I both know that humans and Proxies both die the same."

He had simply nodded in reply and left for his room, both to obey the advice and lick the poor wounds clean.

The ceiling stared down at him. Was it getting closer? No, it couldn't be. He glanced around the room. Bare. More bare than he was used to, though it was the same as how he left it. He closed his eyes again, attempting to slow his thoughts. He needed sleep to live. A dead Proxy was a useless Proxy, and quickly forgotten by the Operator. Therefore, he could never let himself die. Ever.

Masky sighed. He doubted sleep would ever come for him.

There was a knock on his door, a small and gentle whisper. He nearly smiled. Finally, sweet interruption.

Instantly he leaped from his bed, making his way to the grey door. This was what he had been waiting for. An excuse. Whoever stood beyond that door was his saviour.

Without hesitation, he swung the door open. At first, it seemed that he had been greeted with a greyed stone wall, illuminated only by dim wall-mounted lanterns. But he knew better. He glanced down slightly, just below his field of vision.

It was a child.

A girl, dressed in elegant yellow pyjamas, and her long black hair slightly knotted. In her arms was a plush white teddy bear with soft blue button eyes, which she hugged to her body like it would protect her from anything. Which it would.

"Hello, Mr. Masky," she spoke timidly, "I was told to come bring you down to the central room. Mr. Slenderman's orders." The thought of his master filled his mind as he obtained his new objective. He nodded, eyes brightening behind his shadowed mask.

Not needing to speak, he stepped out of his empty bedroom and into the empty stairwell. The two made their way down the stairs, the girl skipping cheerfully.

His bedroom, unlike the others, rested withing one of the many narrow branching spires that decorated the castle like long weaving tendrils. They were a pain to traverse, but they symbolized part of the honour that his title held. Not that they were used much anyways.

The girl began to hum to herself. An eerie tune, but somehow familiar. He liked it.

Finally, he spoke. "So what's going on, Sally?" he asked, voice slightly hoarse. She skipped in front of him down the stairwell, not bothering to look him in the eye.

Her voice squeaked across the darkened walls, feet nearly dancing. "Mr. Laughing Jack said there's a new Proxy here! Isn't that great, Mr. Masky?" Masky nodded, slinking back to his usual quiet.

Then his mind began to process those words, and his feet fell in place.

"Wait... what?" was all he could manage to say, the mere concept jarring. A new Proxy? No, that couldn't be true. His master was very, very selective. She must be mistaken.

Sally, having never turned around, was unaware that the mask man had stopped, and continued to prance away.

"I went down to the main floor, and there was a _whole bunch _of people gathered around. I couldn't even see what was happening. But before I could, Mr. Laughing Jack told me that there's a new Proxy, and that Mr. Slenderman wants you to meet him. He told me to go get you, so I did!"

Masky forced his legs to move again, knowing Sally was lost in her own words.

"Ooh, I wonder what he's like?" she continued. "You think he'll like me? I'd love for somebody new to play with. Oh! What if it's a girl like me?" she gasped at the thought. "Then we could play dress-up and have tea parties together! And she could paint my nails, and do my hair and makeup, just like Gen used to! This is gonna be so great, I..."

Knowing all useful information had been told, he tuned her ramblings out as they neared to bottom of the stairwell. The castle's long, narrow spires connected to every possible point, but his was connected to a hallway on the main floor. Right next to the front gate.

Completely forgetting Masky's presence, Sally pulled the heavy door open, her thin arms just able to move it enough. Instantly, the dim stairwell was met with new light, and he stepped into the hallway.

He hardly noticed as the girl ran off to the right. He noticed that he stood beside a blood stain. Had that always been there? It looked old, but he didn't recognize it. He walked away from it, heading towards the central room of the main floor.

The room almost resembled a hotel lobby, except much more sparse. A few couches, a coffee table, maybe a lamp or two. Big enough for all the castle's residents to gather, though he'd never seen that happen. The room was painted black, like the exterior, and always felt cold.

He supposed, if the castle were anything like a home, this would be the living room, right beside the front door. But it was home to nobody.

Like the young girl had said, there was a small gathering of residents by one of the leather couches. He counted six heads in total, including the newly joined Sally and whoever it was that they crowded against.

Also as Sally mentioned, Laughing Jack was part of the crowd. As he stepped into the room, the clown glanced at him, and beamed. His teeth were sharp like knives.

"Heh heh, there he is! I thought you'd never show up," he cackled, causing everyone in the group to turn to him. He shifted his weight uncomfortably.

It wasn't the attention that made him uncomfortable. If he had a problem with limelight, he would have died long ago. No, there was something else. Something worse.

There was a person. A person he had never seen before. A person wearing large tinted goggles and a scarf on his face. He hugged his body tight, twitching slightly.

He could sense it. This person, whoever he was, held part of the Operator's control within him. It was true. There was another Proxy now.

Though unsure exactly why, Masky felt his blood begin to boil.

**Masky is from the Web Show _Marble Hornets_**

**Slenderman (The Operator) is from a number of things, and originates from SA Forums**

**Sally and Charlie are from the Creepypasta _My Teddy Bear_**

**Laughing Jack is from the Creepypasta _Laughing Jack_**

**Ticci Toby is from the Creepypasta _Ticci Toby_**

_**If you have any problems finding a certain character's original story, feel free to let me know so I can help you find it :)**_


	3. Chapter 2

He wasn't expecting a castle.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting. The Operator had told little of the world he had entered, except that he would be safe. At the time, that was all he really needed to know.

But now, he wished he had been told much more.

He also wasn't expecting other people. He knew there would be one person waiting for him, the person he had been told about by his new master. But none of these people – if they even were people – claimed to be the one he needed.

When he'd first been guided into the building, he was noticed by some sort of clown dressed in black and white and a fistful of sweets. His name wasn't Masky. Laughing something. It started with a J.

Next came Jeff the Killer. He remembered his name only because of how cavalier he sounded as he introduced himself. He had a smile carved into his face. It looked painful, but he seemed to have no problem talking. And he talked a lot.

It was at this point that he noticed the Operator's absence. He also noticed the knife poking out of Jeff's pocket, and Laughing's sharpened teeth.

Before he could run, another walked into the room. He wore a blue mask, though he wasn't Masky either. Eyeless something. The name was fitting. He wasn't as loud as the others, but that somehow just made him more intimidating.

At some point he had been backed onto a couch. Did the others not notice they were surrounding him? Perhaps they did. Eyeless smelled a lot like blood. He still wasn't used to that scent.

Then Clockwork came. Her name was also easy to remember, since she had a clock for an eye. It seemed to be working, too. It was 12:48. He wasn't sure if it was day or night, though.

All four of them refused to cease their questioning, asking a new one before he could answer the first. He wasn't prepared for an interrogation.

What's your name? Toby Erin Rogers. Got an alias? Ticci Toby, I guess. What's with the twitching? Tourettes. Are you gonna start shouting swears? Probably not. What's your weapon of choice? Hatchets. You any good? No, I'm still new. How many humans have you killed? One.

The 'one' seemed to really offend them.

Clockwork's eye had nearly reached 1:00 by the time he saw any sign of relief. A fifth person ran up to him, a little girl with a teddy bear. She didn't seem dangerous, but he was sure he didn't either.

She started asking him the strange questions he'd been asked time after time by the others. But before he could respond to any of them, Laughing spoke up.

"Heh heh, there he is! I thought you'd never show up."

He wasn't talking to him.

Instantly everyone's gaze turned away from him, to his delight. At first he could not see the new centre of attention, being surrounded by his interrogator's bodies. Noticing this, Clockwork shuffled out of the way, giving him a better view.

It was a man with a mask.

A mask he'd seen someplace before.

Though the eyes were shrouded, Toby knew their gaze had met. This was the one he searched for. He could sense it.

He hugged his body tighter. Masky shifted his weight, the only sign shown that he was alive. That mask concealed well.

"You must be the new Proxy," he said, his tone revealing nothing. His voice was unremarkable, he could be anyone. They could have met several times before, and Toby doubted he would ever have a clue.

Toby nodded. He noticed that the others became quiet as the masked man spoke, a feat that seemed impossible only moments prior.

"You just get here?" he asked, his voice still level.

Another nod. "Yeah," he said, "I've been here for, um, I think less than an hour." When he strained his ears, he could hear the faint ticking of a clock.

Masky fell quiet. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all. Meanwhile, the others began to shuffle away just a bit, giving the two space.

Were these people, who were so obviously killers, intimidated by this man? If so, then what did that say about his own fate?

Finally, Masky spoke up. "I didn't know the Operator was getting another Proxy." His voice sounded just a bit quieter than before. The other Proxy's started to whisper to each other.

"Oh," was all Toby said in reply. It was all he really could say.

It seemed his new master wasn't much of a conversationalist to anyone.

The room fell back into silence.

"Um," another voice interjected loudly, "You know we're all still here, right?" Jeff announced tactlessly, gesturing to the other four who had been questioning him earlier with his knife. Even their eyes widened at his remark. Except for Eyeless.

Masky's head turned just slightly, looking at Jeff. With his voice just as even as before, he simply said, "Why?"

Jeff's expression, if possible, faltered. "Well, uh..." his thoughts noticeably started to fumble, "Why not?" He failed to cling to the pride he held as he first introduced himself.

Crossing his arms, Masky said "Leave. All of you."

There were a few bitter mutters, but the five figures slowly began to file out of the room. There were a few vulgar words from Jeff, but other than that they all did as they were told. Who was this person?

The two of them were alone.

It didn't take long for Masky to speak up. "The Operator assign you a room yet?" Toby shook his head. "Alright, follow me." He commanded, turning his back and heading down a hallway.

Not wanting to get on this person's bad side, Toby did as he was told and followed silently.

The path he was led down was disorienting. It wasn't unbearably winding and intricate, but every room they went through looked the same. He'd never been inside a castle before, but he doubted most of them looked so dull and dreary. But then again, most castle's didn't belong to supernatural creatures.

He wasn't expecting Masky to speak up.

"Sorry about the others. They're insane." His voice, though still detached, held significantly more emotion than before.

Toby was caught off guard. "It-it's okay." He wasn't sure what to say, especially to this person. "I didn't think there'd be so many Proxy's here?"

Silence. Then, "What?" Masky questioned. Toby wasn't sure what he said wrong, but before he could right himself, Masky said. "Oh. They're not Proxy's. None of them are."

"What?" Toby quoted the other.

Masky opened a door, and the two of them began walking up a narrow, spiralling stairwell. "Yeah, this place, I guess it's sort of a safe haven for monsters. Proxy's live here, but it's also a hotel for psychopaths. With the Operator's permission, they can come and go whenever they need to."

Toby's eyes narrowed, an act unseen past his tinted goggles. "Why?"

To his surprise, Masky shrugged. "I don't know. Not sure how he even puts up with it, to be honest. There's no real benefit."

A nod, though Toby's question remained unanswered. The stairs kept on spiralling, seeming unending.

Their footsteps echoed hollowly throughout the stone structure. "So how many Proxy's are there, then?" he asked curiously.

Masky was quiet. "Two," he said in a low voice.

A slight gasp, muffled by a dark scarf. "You mean it's just us?" It was so hard to believe. Who wouldn't want to serve the Operator? Had his gift been overlooked, or did he only extend his loving tendrils to select few?

Masky fell silent again, and stayed silent for a long time. He did not speak up again until the two reached another door. "Just us," he nearly whispered as he swung the door open.

The room was empty. No, not quite empty. There was a bed, and a nightstand with a lamp, and a dresser. There was a window, though it was covered by thick black drapes.

"This is it?" Toby asked, glancing around the room. Masky nodded, saying nothing.

The two were quiet for a while. "Is there anything else you need from me? Any questions?" he asked tiredly. Toby walked into the room, sitting down on his new bed.

He sighed. "Yeah, um, probably. But right now I, uh, I kinda just wanna be alone. Got a lot to think about. You don't mind, do you?"

Masky shook his head. "I understand," was all he said.

And then he turned around and left, not saying another word.

Toby sighed, lifting the goggles up from his eyes and flopping down on his bed. He gazed up blankly, his mind already somewhere far away from that room and than castle and that world.

Though he knew he wasn't supposed to, he thought about his family.

**Jeff the Killer is from the Creepypasta _Jeff the Killer_**

**Eyeless Jack is from the Creepypasta _Eyeless Jack_**

**Clockwork is from the Creepypasta _Clockwork: Your Time Is Up_**

_**If you have any problems finding a certain character's original story, feel free to let me know so I can help you find it :)**_


	4. Chapter 3

The ground and the air and the sky was covered in ash. The forest, once vast and magnificent, now lay in ruins. Tall, dark trees had fallen over, littering the dusted ground with static death. The sun failed to shine through the coat of grey.

"Hello?" the man called out, his voice carrying far. There was little left standing to block the sound anymore.

Where was he?

The man marched through the remains, his shoes kicking up small clouds of ash behind him. "You still here?" he asked the emptiness.

No reply. He spent all day trying to visit him, and now he was nowhere to be seen. How typical of him.

"You don't have to hide, you know. It's just me." Not that there was anywhere to hide anymore. Stepping over half-charred logs, he touched what was left of a tree with the palm of his hand. It left a grey mark on his skin.

His dark eyes glanced around for any sign of his friend. "Alright. Joke's over. Get out here." Nothing.

But it wasn't really nothing. There was one other sound, faint but slowly getting louder. He tried to ignore it. Whatever it was, there was no concern for it here.

He sighed. "Look, if you're mad at me, I'm sorry." Still nothing, but the faint sound continued to grow louder and louder. It also sounded... faster. More frantic.

He tried so hard to ignore it. He knew the sound was somewhere else, and he needed to be here. Just for a little while. Just to see him.

The world was a hollow place by himself.

"Tim."

The man turned around. Standing before him was his friend, the one he had been looking for. He let out a relieved smile, but abandoned it when he saw the other man's expression.

His face was pale, and his eyes wide. "You need to wake up. I... There's something wrong," he stated with worry in his tone. The ash in the air clung to his hoodie.

Tim raised a brow. "What? No. Why should I?"

Uncharacteristically frustrated, the other man sighed. "Look, I'm really sorry. But you need to shut that dog up. It might already be too late."

Too late? "What are you talking about?" he asked as he darkened the sky involuntarily.

And then the other man, a man who rarely if ever lost his breezy demeanour, let alone his temper, gritted his teeth. "Wake up!"

Then Masky woke up.

He was in his room. Outside his window, the sky flashed with streaks of red. Midnight, or close to it.

Somewhere, a dog was barking. Loud. Loud enough that it could be heard from his own tower in another part of the castle. The kind of bark that would be impossible for a real dog to achieve.

Masky groaned as he stood up from his bed. Noises were not uncommon, but this noise certainly was.

Wasting little time he made his way down the staircase and to the main floor. Knowing the castle by heart, he had no problem following the irritant sound.

"Is someone gonna shut that dog up?" he heard a very annoyed voice call. Masky quickened his pace. He didn't know much about animals, but the noise sounded almost pained.

"Jeff, your dog is barking," another voice said, this time coming from the source of the noise.

Rounding one last corner, he saw a small gathering of people crowded into the hallway. Just past them, he could see a dog running frantically, barking wild at nothing in particular. It's wide, deranged grin had morphed into what would have been a snarl.

"Yeah, and what am I supposed to do about it?" Jeff argued, his lidless eyes attempting a glare. "And since when is he _my _dog?"

Eyeless frowned. His mask had been left behind, exposing his more human features. "Since yesterday, when you said Smile was your dog."

Jeff gave a deadpan expression. "I never said that."

"You guys are loud," Bloody Painter complained, rubbing a tired eye with his sleeve. He too had left his mask behind. Masky was surprised to see him there. He never was a very sociable person, even compared to himself.

Jeff grumbled. "Oh, _we're _loud? What about him? He gestured at the grinning dog, who was now clawing at the burning black walls, exposing the old wood underneath, panting heavily as he barked.

Smile yelped tensely. There didn't seem to be anything wrong, but still he ran wild, tossing his body to and fro, as if his leg were caught in a bear trap.

"What's wrong with him, anyways?" asked the new Proxy, who he hadn't noticed was there. But he must have noticed Masky, for at some point he had moved to stand beside him.

Masky shrugged tiredly. "Rabies, maybe?" he suggested. The others shrugged mutually. Even Eyeless, who was the closest thing the castle had to a doctor, was clueless.

The five of them stood silently, watching the crazed husky-like creature chase the air around him. Elsewhere, there was another sound, this one resembling a screeching howl. Not a sound a dog would make, or any natural creature.

Jeff crossed his arms and huffed. "Great, now the Rake's up!" he complained.

Masky groaned. "Look, standing here isn't going to do anything. Does anyone here know anything about dogs?" he asked exasperatedly.

Everyone shook their heads.

Masky groaned even louder. "Great. Just great."

"Do you need any help?" a new voice asked from behind them. The five of them turned around, all except the new Proxy recognizing the seldom heard voice.

A young boy, no older than 12, clothed in dull green. Though his form was iconic, he was far from the legendary hero he resembled.

Smile shrieked loudly. "A bit, yeah," Masky responded to the boy, eyeing him warily. This person had a reputation, and it was not a very pleasant one.

The boy gave a deadpan expression. "It was a rhetorical question," he said, shoving past him to get to the panicked animal. Masky stumbled, but only a little.

Not skipping a beat, the boy crouched down, meeting the dog at eye level. "Smile, stop it."

And then, he stopped.

Everyone gasped.

Smile glanced up at the boy, his mouth showing joy but his eyes showing fear. The boy stared down at him, his bright pupils casting a dim red glow on the trembling fur.

Silently he muttered, "This is how it is now."

The two stared at each other for just a moment more, bringing attention to the surrounding silence. And then, almost solemnly, Smile nodded.

And then he stood up and walked away, disappearing behind the hallway's cloaking shadows.

It was like he was never there.

The boy stood up, brushing the dirt off his clothes before glancing over to Masky, whose mask hid the fact that his mouth hung open. "You're welcome," the boy huffed before teleporting, or turning invisible, or whatever it was that he did. Either way, he was gone.

The new Proxy flinched involuntarily. "W-what just happened?" he said shakily, clearly stunned.

Masky shrugged. The others did the same.

Finally, Jeff spoke up. "Wow, that kid is weird," he said amazedly yet dismissively, turning around and walking back to wherever he was before then. The others began to follow suit, slowly emptying the crowded hallway without a word of goodbye.

Masky turned away, heading towards his bedroom. There was still plenty of night left, and as long as he got to sleep fast, he would still be able to enjoy it.

"Wait," he heard the new Proxy say behind him, his voice sounding confused and maybe a little afraid. He kept walking. If he wanted answers, he didn't have them. Mostly.

He made his way up to his room again, and saw that it was the same as it was before. Wasting no more time, he slithered back into his bed, which was still warm from his body heat.

And then, silently he waited.

He knew not how long he waited for, but after a long while he returned to that forest, the same one he always visited.

But now the trees were alive again, reformed from splinters and ash. The sound of occasional wildlife rustling past the lush greenery filled his ears. The sky was clear blue, the sun shining brightly.

The other man leaned against a nearby tree. He smiled gently, like he always did, as if the last dream never happened. And Tim was almost willing to believe it, but he knew his friend far too well.

Somewhere behind that smile, though bright as it was, held the remnants of a deep frown. A frown long past, but its dark shadow remained.

He smirked mischievously. "So, you ready for round 2?" he asked.

Quickly the sky began to darken, covering the sun with grey clouds. The wind began to pick up, causing the leaves to flutter apace.

Tim smiled, his eyes glimmering. "Absolutely."

And then there was a spark.

**Hoodie is from the Web Series _Marble Hornets_**

**Smile Dog is from the Creepypasta _Smile Dog_**

**Bloody Painter is from the Creepypasta _Bloody Painter_**

**The Rake is from the Creepypasta _The Rake_**

**Ben is from the Creepypasta _BEN Drowned _and the ARG _Haunted Majora's Mask_**

_**If you have any problems finding a certain character's original story, feel free to let me know so I can help you find it :)**_


	5. Chapter 4

He didn't know what happened. That was obvious from the start. He was beginning to realize that there were things in that castle more powerful than him, and far stranger as well.

But it wasn't until he had been left alone in that dark hallway that he made his second revelation. He had no idea where he was. He couldn't remember the way he came from, or the way to anywhere. This was the first time he'd even left his room since he first arrived.

The dim lighting flickered gently. The hallway seemed to be very low lit, likely intentional. All the halls he passed seemed to be like this. In fact, he could think of no difference between this hallway and every other one, save for the events that transpired in it.

Toby looked to his right, and then his left. He couldn't see far either way. He inhaled slowly, and then let it out, feeling his warm breath against his scarf. He turned to his right, and started to walk.

He had no idea if he'd made the right decision. But then again, he never did. That was why he was there in the first place. There was no use changing that now.

Every hallway looked the same. Sometimes he would pass through a room he didn't recognize, or be led to a dead end, the only real landmarks that existed.

Walls. Rooms and walls and lights and anger, on and on, never truly changing but never quite the same.

It didn't take long for him to get annoyed. He was tired. He just wanted to go to sleep. Why did he have to live in a maze?

Of course, he had tried to ask Masky for help. He wasn't stupid, despite what most people assumed about him. But the masked person had walked away, either not hearing him or not caring.

Toby yawned. The dim lighting wasn't helping him stay awake at all. He was beginning to realize that he wouldn't recognize the door to his room if he saw it. It looked just like all the others.

He stood in place.

The hallway looked the same as every other.

Sighing audibly, he leaned his back against the sleek onyx wall and slid down to the floor, holding his head in his hands. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do. Was there nothing he could do?

He needed help, somehow.

There was a noise.

It was faint. Very faint. So faint that he probably would have missed it completely had he not stopped at that very spot. It came from the door across from him. It looked the same as all the others.

He strained his ears, trying to make out the noise. Sometimes it would get too quiet to hear, but most of it was audible. It sounded like a song, a vaguely happy tune. A tune he didn't recognize.

But then, another part of the song began to play, the proudly chiming melody. Even he, someone who never touched a controller in his life, could easily recognize it.

His mind flashed back to the boy from earlier, the one who somehow calmed down that deformed dog. At the time, he thought the clothes were just strange, but now they held new meaning.

Shuffling to his feet, he pressed a hooded ear against the door. Yes, that was it. The main theme for the Zelda games.

_'This is how it is now.'_

He had to know.

He knocked. The noise echoed through the hallway, but no response. He knocked again, louder, the fabric of his gloves rubbing slightly. Still no response.

For a moment, he considered leaving, but then he remembered there was nowhere he could be except there. His room was lost in the vast walls of the castle.

So he opened the door.

The room was small. Much smaller than his. There was no dresser or nightstand or window or even a lamp. All there was was an old television, its light reflecting off the tiny room's walls.

And in front of it was boy, clothed in strange green garb, a controller in his hands and his back facing the door as he sat atop the worn down hardwood floor.

Toby glanced to the screen. On it was a boy just like the one controlling him, except with brighter colours and bearing a sword and shield.

Stepping into the room, he glanced down at the boy. "Um, hello?" he said.

Now seeing the child from the side, he saw his eyes were pitch black with glowing red pupils that reflected onto the convex screen. It must have been irritating, but he seemed to make no effort to remedy this.

The boy kept his gaze on his game, the buttons on the controller clacking loudly. He was about to speak again, but was interrupted. "You must be Ticci Toby."

Surprised, Toby nodded. "Yeah, that's me," he said, slightly nervous. "Um, what's your name?" he said, assuming that he wasn't named 'Link' like his garb suggested.

The boy spoke again, this time more promptly. "Ben. Or Ben Drowned, as some people say. But the 'Drowned' is a verb, not a surname, so just Ben is fine."

His voice was high, like a child that just hadn't quite reached puberty yet. Usually not very intimidating, but the way his voice remained dead and emotionless somehow made him seem rather unnerving. An eerie juxtaposition. Toby twitched.

The two went silent for a moment, the sound of faint music being the only comfort.

Finally, Toby spoke again. "Hey, how did you manage to calm that dog down?" he asked, seeing that the boy was in no mood for a conversation and cutting what he really wanted to hear.

His eyes were still glued to the screen. "Animals listen to me. Its a universal ghost thing. You could do it too if you died just right."

Toby gasped, taking a step back. "You're a _ghost?"_ he said, though by now he shouldn't have been surprised.

Ben seemed to agree. "This coming from a person who serves a tall, faceless man with a list of unnatural powers and a craving for human death and suffering."

Link killed a monster, grabbing the drifting heart it left behind. "Yeah, I guess you're right..." Toby said, though he was a little concerned of the child's view on his master.

Again they returned to silence. Toby felt less than welcome, but he wasn't exactly told to leave, either. "What did you mean by 'this is how it is now'?"

The room flickered in the dim lighting. "That it is how it is," he said bluntly.

Toby raised a brow. "What does that mean?" he asked.

"What it sounds like."

"But it sounds like nothing!" his voice raised in volume. He couldn't help but feel like he was missing something obvious, like he was supposed to understand. Which was probably what the young boy intended.

Ben said nothing. Toby sighed. This ghost, whoever he really was, was not any help at all, and clearly did not want to be. Giving up, he turned back the way he came, twisting the sleek brass doorknob gently.

"You know Masky doesn't like you, right?" the boy called out to him.

Toby stopped. "What?" he said, turning his head around. Ben's eyes were still on the dim television screen.

He continued as if nothing had been said. "Of course, he doesn't like most people. Some get on his good side, but not most, and especially not you." His voice was just as level as before, if not more, as if his own words bored him.

Turning around completely, Toby narrowed his eyes. "But I haven't done anything to him," he protested, thinking back to the few times they interacted and examining his every action.

Link swiped a patch of grass. "You didn't need to. He just doesn't like having another Proxy around."

His curiosity outweighed his growing mistrust for the child. "But he was nice to me earlier," he argued. Even if he didn't help him find his room. But that didn't mean anything.

Even now, Ben still played his little game. Both of them. "That's because he doesn't realize it yet. Give him time," he said. Toby wasn't sure, but he thought he may have seen a smirk. However, that may have been just another shadow from the flickering television playing its tricks.

"Well, um," Toby stumbled, "that still doesn't explain why he doesn't like me. I mean, it can't be just because I'm a Proxy, right?" he considered, thinking out loud.

Ben nodded slightly. "You're right. Normally he'd probably like you, or at least tolerate you. But you came here at a bad time. You have standards you'll never live up to."

Toby huffed. "Alright, I'm leaving," he said, finally opening the door to reveal the now welcoming hall.

"Watch out for open windows," Ben called out once again.

Toby paused at the doorway and sighed. "What?" he said, his voice overflowing with annoyance. He was beginning to regret ever entering that room.

Still Ben played his game. "Reference joke. Don't expect you to get it. I'd explain it to you, but apparently castles filled with killers still have social taboos."

Toby groaned. "Goodbye," he said bitterly, and slammed the door shut before he could hear another word.

Wow, that kid was weird.

He sighed. That was far from helpful, and he quickly realized that, though there was talking on both ends, the young boy said nothing other than what he knew would irritate him. Much like a video game, he had been played.

And now he was back in the hallway, which was just as dark and empty as before. He had no idea where to go, but he was not about to go back and ask for help.

He hugged his body tightly, keeping himself as still as he could. There really were no friends to be had in a place like this, were there?

"Looks like you've met Ben."

Toby looked up towards the voice. Standing by another nearby doorway was a young woman, her spiky brown hair messy and unkempt from tossing around and turning in the right. Clockwork, if he remembered correctly.

"How did you know?" he asked, feeling his eyes begin to droop just a bit. He was tired. Very tired.

The girl laughed, blinking her single bleary eye. In the darkness, he noticed that her green iris had a faint glow around it. "You weren't exactly being quiet," she said.

"Oh," Toby said, lowering his head. "Sorry."

Clockwork smiled, shifting the thick stitching on her cheeks. "Don't worry about it. Everyone's first meeting with him is the same. Kid's a total asshole," she said reflectively.

Toby laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I could tell," he said before yawning. What time was it? He glanced at the girl's left 'eye'. 4:18. How long he had spent up and about, he would never be sure, but if felt like far too long.

He yawned again. "Hey, um, is it okay if, um..." he trailed off.

To his surprise, Clockwork nodded. "Can't find your room, huh?" she said calmly.

Surprised by the girl's understanding, Toby nodded. She looked like she had just woken up, and most likely by him. He knew just by looking at her that she was a psychopath, and probably killed many more people than he. Yet still she helped him.

Clockwork smiled and closed her door behind her. "S'alright. Everyone gets lost at first. You'll get used to it after a while, trust me. This place is actually pretty cool once you know where everything is and get to know the right people," she told him as she started down the hall.

She turned back, signalling for him to follow. "C'mon. I think I know where your room is. Knowing Masky, he probably put you in the best one. He's a sweetheart, really. Just doesn't want anyone to know it."

Toby followed. Together they walked back towards his bedroom, her talking about whatever popped into her mind while he listened. They passed through countless rooms and hallways, all looking the same, but Clockwork knew exactly where she was going.

She was helping him.

Maybe there were friends to be had in a place like this after all.


	6. Chapter 5

"Wake up."

Masky stood over the small bed, shining his bright light directly into the young Proxy's sleeping face. He watched as he tossed around in the thin blankets, groaning as he slowly sat himself up.

The new Proxy shadowed his eyes with his hand, his goggles and scarf resting on his nightstand. "What is it?" he half spoke, half muttered, kicking his blankets away.

He tilted the flashlight away from his face. He walked over to the nearby lamp and turned it on, lighting the room with a faint yellow glow. "It's time to get up," he said, watching the teenager wrap his goggles around his head.

He let out a yawn. "What time is it?" he asked, his voice becoming slightly muffled as he wound his grey scarf over his mouth.

Masky glanced at the watch on his wrist. "A bit past 5:00," he read. "Looks like we slept in a lot. C'mon, get up," he ushered as the younger one muttered something incoherent yet blatantly negative as he stood up.

"You'd better get used to this," Masky warned, "You're lucky we got any sleep at all. Doesn't always happen."

The new Proxy walked over to his dresser, picking up the two mismatched hatchets that leaned next to it and slinging them around his back. They looked freshly sharpened.

Masky swung the door open and gestured for the other to follow him downstairs. He did.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked, now finally starting to sound more alert as concern began to trickle into his voice.

He shook his head, staring forward down the spiralling stairs. "I've always trained the new Proxy's. Not really a fan of waiting around."

"Oh," the new Proxy said silently, more to himself than to the older man. The two turned to silence, their echoing footsteps their single empty song. But then, the teen spoke up again, now louder. "Wait, have there been other Proxy's besides me?" he asked.

Masky said nothing, his mind elsewhere.

He knew that, if given the choice, he would have nothing to do with this person. Not because he was supposed to be on leave for another 6 days. Not because there was anything more important he could be doing. Not even because he had anything against the boy. In reality, he had nothing to argue, except he wanted to be alone.

No, not alone. That wasn't really what he wanted. But it was the only thing he could have. And now that was gone. Maybe that was why he was so bitter? Would he ever really know?

The two reached the end of the stairwell, and Masky shoved the heavy door open. He glanced behind his shoulder, seeing that the new Proxy still scampered close behind, and continued towards their destination.

"So where are we going, anyways?" the voice piped up again. For a moment, he considered once again staying quiet, but ultimately decided otherwise. He would find out soon enough. As long as he kept the actual surprise to himself a while longer, it would still work.

Masky turned a corner. "You remember how you first got to the realm, right?" he asked.

The new Proxy was silent for a moment. "Um, sort of. I remember being in some sort of area full of trees. The Operator to go through some sort of... hole, I think, or maybe a small cave. And when I went out the other side, I was in another forest, but the sky was all black and I could see the castle through the trees," he reminisced.

Masky nodded slightly. So he didn't understand, or at least not quite. Not a problem. He was used to explaining the realm-jumping system, mostly to the new psychopaths that gained entry to the castle.

"The forest is how we get from the normal realm to this one," he explained. "Basically, the Operator has marked locations all over the world that can be accessed. These places all have spots like holes or tunnels. When you go through them, with the Operator's permission, you'll end up in a part of the forest around the castle. You understand?" he glanced to the Proxy.

The other nodded slowly. "I think so. It's kind of like portals, right? To warp from one world to the other?" he asked, his interest sounding piqued.

Masky shrugged while nodding. "Yeah, I guess," he said. The two reached the front door to the castle. He pushed it open, greeting them with slightly frigid air. Flicking his flashlight back on, he started walking straight through the vast grassy field before them, and towards the forest off in the distance.

With the only source of light held in Masky's hand, the new Proxy was forced to keep close. The forest was a little ways away from the castle, which was instead surrounded by the long, flat land they now walked on.

Masky thought back to all the times people asked him, 'Why would Slenderman surround himself with open field? Aren't trees kind of his thing?' His answer to them, while sometimes not directly told, was always the same.

"Is that a _dead body?"_

The Operator loves to show off his work.

Masky glanced over to where the other Proxy pointed. Not too far off in the distance was a small heap. While details could not be made, it was clearly wearing a white t-shirt, caked with a basic mixture of blood and dirt.

He rolled his eyes. "What do you think?" he asked sarcastically, still walking straight towards the forest. The new Proxy had no choice but to keep his shaking legs moving, following him into the dark.

Masky frowned. If that was how he reacted to one corpse, then he was going to have _fun _trying to get him to kill indiscriminately. If he didn't change his attitude fast, he'd be dead within a week, maybe less.

Or worse, he'd become the next Ark. Masky shuddered at the thought.

Finally, the two reached the edge of the forest. The new Proxy twitched violently, more so than usual. Masky kept on walking straight, deep inside the thick maze of dead flora.

"S-so, where exactly are we going, then?" he asked as he glanced around wildly at every lengthened shadow cast.

Masky couldn't help but grit his teeth. Did he really think he was in danger here? Nobody allied with the Operator is stupid enough to attempt homicide on his Proxy's. He sucked in a deep breath, and let it out, trying not to lash out.

As for the question, he stayed silent and continued to walk forward. The glow of his flashlight hardly covered any ground, the dead trees cutting the beam of light into small lines. But the flashlight wasn't for him.

Eventually he stopped at a small clearing, pointing the light up into the treetops. It was then that he decided to answer the Proxy's question.

"We're not going anywhere yet," he said, glancing up to the blank sky. He saw the other Proxy do the same, but he knew he saw nothing.

And then he turned the light off, casting them into perfect black.

"Try not to die," he said, his voice as deadpan as it always was. Silently, he backed out of the clearing, leaving the teen behind.

His vision adapted to the shadows, he watched closely from slight distance as the Proxy reached for the hatchets on his back, grasping them tightly. He took a sturdy stance, but his limbs still shook.

Nearby, the treetops began to shake as the third figure began to creep closer. It wasn't trying to hide anymore. It knew he had an advantage.

Masky watched. It was so easy to find someone willing to kill for him.


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry. This chapter was supposed to come out on Wednesday. I try my best to stay on schedule (yes, there is a schedule) but life got in the way. But as of today I am officially on winter break, so hopefully I will still be able to finish the next chapter by next week and get back on track. Again, _really _sorry. Hopefully this chapter won't seem rushed, because it kind of was. Sorry.**

Toby felt lightheaded. He was sure that if it had been any other person in his place, they would have felt much more than a bit dizzy. But his skin, tattered or otherwise, felt just as numb as it always did. Just one of the many _perks _of being him, he supposed.

Swirls of dark red mixed with running water, spiralling into a pinkish soup before disappearing down the sink's drain. He held his forearm underneath the tap, his occasional twitches sending splatters of water and blood flying. The once clean mirror was now dotted and stained.

According to Masky, it was 'not that bad'. He tried to tell himself this, but still his arm continued to slowly leak from three new jagged lines. They would probably scar.

He glared down at the fresh wound. Masky planned it. He knew he would get injured. He wanted it to happen, possibly. And now he was nowhere to be found.

"Hey, long time no see."

Toby whipped his head around, keeping his arm underwater. Clockwork leaned her side by the bathroom's door frame, her eternal smile bent into a soft smirk. Her pale, slender hands were stuffed inside the pockets of her blue hoodie.

He smiled weakly at the girl, still remembering the night before. "Hey," he said uncomfortably. He'd clearly never been in such a situation before, trying to clean a fresh wound while a girl he didn't really know watched. Would this be another thing he would need to get used to?

Clockwork invited herself inside the bathroom, leaning over his shaking shoulder to see the cuts from a better angle. "Huh. Not as nasty as I thought it would be. Guess I was wrong."

Toby blinked, trying to understand her words. When he failed to do so, he raised a quizzical brow in her direction.

Clockwork giggled. "Sorry. I saw the trail of rose petals you left. Came to see if someone was dying," she explained, gesturing to the droplets of blood on the floor that traced into the hallway.

"Ah," the young Proxy nodded, trying to steady his forearm, as it was now shaking more than ever. Embarrassing, to say the least, especially in front of another person.

He expected her to leave. But she didn't. Instead, she hoisted herself on top of the newly dirtied counter top, her thin legs dangling next to him. "So, judging by the claw marks, I'm gonna say it was..." she held her chin in exaggerated thought. "Hmm, too short to be Rakey. Could'a been EJ, but he's more of a biter. And I think Smile left after last night. So with them out of the way, and everyone else with claws out of the mansion, I'm gonna say... Seed Eater?"

Toby frowned. Not because of his new company, or her answer, but because the blood. While slowing down slightly, it was still oozing out of his pale body. "That's what Masky said," he thought back to right after the fight. At least the older Proxy had the decency to help him out afterwards, if only for a few moments.

Truthfully, he did not need help until the very end. The creature's attacks had been sporadic and nonsensical, and almost completely offensive. All he really had to do was dodge the attacks and swing his hatchets whenever that thing left himself open, which was very often. The fight ended only when he wound up disarmed – and injured. Then, and only then, did Masky think to interject.

Clockwork peered down into the sink, mesmerized by the swirling red. "So what'd you do to piss him off so fast? Call him a rag-face? A woodpecker? Make fun of his mane?" she asked, sounding curious but not at all surprised.

Toby gritted his teeth. "I didn't do _anything," _he tried to hold back his bitterness, "Masky told him to." He thought back to just an hour ago. Masky just seemed to disappear into the darkness, and the next thing he knew he was being attacked by what looked like a deformed chimera. At the time, he was sure it had been an attempted murder on Masky's part.

He still wasn't sure if he was wrong.

The teenage girl frowned as much as she could with her face in stitches, and narrowed her good eye. "That doesn't sound like Masky. You sure it was him?" she asked. He nodded.

Hopping off the counter, Clockwork walked over to a nearby cabinet and started rummaging through it. "Weird. He's never been the senseless murder type. I always thought Proxy's were into the whole greater purpose, bigger than themselves, commanded army sort."

Toby nodded, though the girl was still looking deep inside the cabinet. What she described was himself, or at least a very abridged version. "He said it was a test. To see where my skills are at." He sighed. "Or at least he said so once we got back inside the castle."

Finally, Clockwork pulled something out of the cabinet. A roll of white gauze, slightly dusty. "I guess that explains it..." she said unsteadily. "But that's still odd for Masky to do. Or maybe not. I dunno. Never saw him actually train a new Proxy before. Maybe it's normal," she shrugged, voice sounding uncertain.

Clockwork reached over and turned the tap off. "I don't think that's working. You'll probably want to wrap that up," she set the gauze in front of him.

He picked it up with trembling fingers, and slowly started to unwind it. "Thanks," he said with a smile, hoping it could be seen enough through his scarf.

Clockwork leaned herself next to the sink again. "So let me get this straight. Masky dragged you out to the woods without telling you anything. You got attacked by Seedy. You fought him and wound up with a nasty scratch. Then what? Did he just... leave, or something?"

Toby started winding the bandage around his still dripping arm. "No. Well, Seed Eater did. Masky stayed behind. Told me about how it was all some test. He brought me here so I could fix myself up. Then he left."

He was not sure, but he thought he heard the girl swear under her breath. The two were silent for a moment, the only noise being the faint sound of the bandage rubbing onto his skin and the rhythmic ticking of her clock eye. He knew neither one of them were happy.

Finally, Clockwork sighed and started walking out the open door. "I'm gonna go talk to M. Catch ya later, alright?"

Toby looked up. "Wait, what?" he said instinctively. He could feel his face paling even more than it already was. "No, please don't. I'm fine." Masky was his superior. He was certain that, if he saw him unfit, he could have him killed just as easily as the Operator himself. He needed to seem strong. Stoic. Unfazed. Just like any good Proxy.

Clockwork turned around. Her one good eye looked at him almost pitifully. "No, you're not," she said, eyeing him closely.

Toby looked down to his half bandaged arm, the bleeding finally beginning to cease. The unused gauze dangled uselessly at his side. He frowned.

She crossed her arms, smiling softly. "Look, if you're worried about Masky getting mad, I won't even mention this. As far as he's concerned, we never even spoke." She glanced down the hallway. "Honestly, I've been meaning to talk to him ever since he got back from his last mission. I already wasted too much time," she reflected.

Toby thought about it for a moment before nodding. "Thank you," he said quietly. In the back of his head, he wondered what it was he wanted to talk about. But he knew he had no place to ask. He had no real place for anything.

Clockwork shot him one final bright smile before disappearing from the doorway down the dark hallway. Toby stood still, listening until her faint _tick, tick, tick_ing faded from his ears. Finally, he was greeted with silence.

He hoped she would be okay.

**Seed Eater is from the Creepypasta _Through the Trees _and the blog _Seed Eater Experiences_**

_**If you have any problems finding a certain character's original story, feel free to let me know so I can help you find it :)**_


	8. Chapter 7

His opinion was not much of anything. The information would be useful, he supposed, but it made no real difference to him. No matter what had happened, his own life would be more or less the same.

A basic style of attack. Mainly defensive, as suspected, but still able to inflict a decent amount of damage. Of course, that may have been due to the offensive style of the opponent. Very reliant on weaponry, which could be useful when combined with his own skills. Still, he would like to see him fight without his hatchets. Most actual combat, or what little there would be, would rely on stealth and compromise.

But mostly compromise.

It could work. The new Proxy had potential. He did not need to befriend him, or even like him. But when all was said and done, he would be helpful, and that was all he asked for.

Masky looked out his window towards the dead forest beyond. Even from his room, high into the cloudless black sky, it still looked vast and infinite. He wondered if anything hid beyond it, or ever did.

There was a knock on his door. He sighed. Did everyone knock? Was nobody in a castle of maniacs crazy enough to invite themselves inside?

"Come in," he called out to the door. It responded by creaking open, revealing the person too scared to forget knocking.

But to her credit, Clockwork walked inside his room and closed the door behind her without a second thought. "Hey M," she smiled. Her crooked stitching warped her face into something not quite natural.

He nodded curtly, eyeing her from head to toe. They were not friends. Not at all. There was a time when they talked, they laughed, they did what friends would do, just like he did with many of the others. But that was then. Back before...

"So," Clockwork sat herself down on his bed, "You ready to talk about it?"

Masky's mind froze in place for half a moment. Did she just acknowledge it? No, she wouldn't. "What?" he asked, more for clarification than anything.

Clockwork scooted down the bed until her back touched the wall. "C'mon. We all know it's bothering you. I mean, how could it not?" she pushed her knees up to her chest.

Realizing exactly what she was there for, he glared at the girl, though he knew his eyes were masked in shadow. He could only hope the ferocity of his gaze was able to be felt nonetheless.

But if it could, she payed no mind. "Look, I'm not gonna pretend I know what you're going through or anything. Honestly, I've never had any friends worth crying over. But I know what happens when you try to bottle all that anger and misery up, and believe me, it is _not_ pretty. So you better let it out to me instead of any of those assholes downstairs."

Masky crossed his arms, leaning against the wall opposite to her. "I'm not doing that," he told her, his glare still directed at her. What a waste of time.

She maintained eye contact with him, or at least as much as possible with only three eyes shared between them, two of which could not be seen. "It'll make you feel better," she encouraged.

"I don't care," he said, his voice perfectly level. A voice that he knew many found intimidating, but still she did not waver.

Clockwork's eye glowed dimly in the room's darkness. "Yes you do. We've all noticed how cold you've been acting lately. Even more than usual. And you can't say it's a coincidence. You'd have to be an idiot to not see how close you guys were."

Masky breathed in deeply, closing his eyes, and then let it out. "I think it's time for you to leave."

She didn't budge. "You can't just pretend Entry 83 never happened. Hell, you act like Hoodie himself never existed. I don't care if you're some big shot Proxy. Everyone needs to grieve, even killers, and you absolutely suck at it." She crossed her own arms, mimicking his posture while still sitting on his bed.

Masky bowed his head down, the shadows cast by his small lamp silhouetting the features of his mask. "Leave. Now."

His threat was ignored. "You blame yourself, don't you?" she asked. "Is that why you won't say anything? Because a Proxy shouldn't be able to feel guilt? Because they're supposed to just roll with the punches?"

She then giggled silently to herself, as if there was a joke heard only to her ears. "Even with a mask, you're still the easiest person in the world to read."

Masky did not say anything. Instead, he reached into the pouch of his jacket, where his pocket knife hid snugly. He wouldn't use it. Not on her, not now. But it certainly felt nice in his hand.

Finally, Clockwork stood up. "Guess I'm not helping much, am I?" Masky darkened his glare, still silent. "Yeah, sorry. This seemed like a better idea in my head. Seems I'm not the motherly type I thought I could be."

As she walked back towards the door, Masky loosened the grip on his knife. Slowly the girl twisted the handle, opening the door to reveal the dark stairwell. "But Masky, if you can't be nice to yourself, and you can't be nice to Hoodie, then at least don't take all this out on Toby," she said quietly. "This isn't about him."

And then she walked out the door and left.

Masky pulled his hand out of his pocket, holding nothing. His eyes slowly relaxed from their glare as he hugged his body tightly.

He slipped a single hand up underneath his mask, rubbing his eyes slightly. They were beginning to sting, only a little. He listened to the slow rhythm of his breathing, still leaning against the wall.

He could not will himself to cry.

He didn't know how to feel about that.


	9. Chapter 8

The organs smelled absolutely rancid. He could not tell for sure what they were, or which animal they came from, but they definitely belonged on the inside of a body. Shinier than regular meat, and slightly rotten judging by the stench. The containers they hid inside hardly lived up to their name.

Toby had lost his appetite.

That smell engulfed the whole refrigerator, seeping into all the other food. He was sure they were fine. Maybe. Probably. But he was not about to eat anything, not for a while.

He slammed the fridge shut. Why there were organs inside, mixed with the delicious food, he did not know. His nose still tingled with the overpowering sensation.

He probably should have been asking questions. They were beginning to pile up fast, transforming from a mild annoyance to a grating pain. Besides, even if he was new, he was a Proxy. Top of the food chain, right under Masky and the Operator. Shouldn't he be the one with the secrets?

But why were there organs in the refrigerator? And why did Clockwork talk to Masky the other day? Did Masky have something against him? What did that Ben kid mean by everything he said? What happened to Smile Dog? Why did Masky's namesake look so familiar to him? Questions, questions, questions, and not a person to answer them.

He sighed. While he would never go back to how things were, this was not the life he was promised.

The refrigerator hummed silently to him. He twitched, but was otherwise silent.

And then, a noise.

Footsteps. Footsteps and voices. They came closer.

Toby disregarded them at first, already used to the comings and goings of people he knew only by name and face. But then, a single, simple sentence cut through the air, grasping at his attention as if in desperation.

"Slendy's gonna kill us."

Toby's whole body shuddered. Carefully, he crept towards the hallway the voices came from, positioning himself just far away from the doorless entryway to keep himself hidden. And then he listened.

"He's not gonna kill us," the second voice said, "as long as we don't say anything." Eyeless Jack. He recognized the voice well enough. Somewhat soft, but well-spoken and relatively wise.

"Are you kidding? He's the Slenderman! He's always watching. It's kind of his thing." A much more familiar voice. Jeff the Killer. Loud, raspy, and never afraid to be heard. Or perhaps desperately afraid not to be heard.

Toby noticed the footsteps stop, thankfully close by. "He doesn't actually see _everything. _He's not some sort of demigod. If he did, he'd know what happened to Smile."

Jeff snorted. "He could be demigod, for all we know. And I wouldn't be surprised if he knows where Smile is, and just won't tell."

Toby furrowed his brows. Smile was missing? This was news to him. He hadn't seen the dog since his first night at the castle, but he thought nothing of it. After all, he still didn't know how the castle worked for the non-Proxies.

"Tha- no, you're an idiot. Slenderman wouldn't lie about that. That's just stupid. You're stupid. I don't even know why I'm talking to you."

"Why's it so hard to believe?" Jeff argued. "We all know he's manipulative. I mean, the whole Proxy brainwashing thing kind of proves it. This is probably just one of his schemes. Kidnap my dog, get me to look for him, kidnap the Rake, and, um... uh..." he trailed off, not so subtly.

"And what? Make you look bad? I doubt you'll need his help for that." Eyeless sighed very audibly. "Look, we're getting sidetracked. Right now we need to find the Rake before anybody notices he's gone. Maybe Seed Eater will be able to sniff him out better than I can."

Although he could tell the situation was serious, Toby had to bite back a laugh at their bickering. "Oh, great! And who'll we send when we lose Seedy? We can't let anyone else know, or else we're dead!"

"You're dead," Eyeless corrected. "I just got caught in your mess. It's your dog that got lost. You just asked me and the Rake to sniff him out. If you get into shit, I'll say you threatened to kill me. You'll have no other witnesses."

Jeff was silent for a while. And then, a muttered "I hate you." Toby imagined him with his arms crossed and his face pouting, like a small child.

Another sigh. "Look, I've been trying to help you. The Rake can't be far. And I'm sure Smile just forgot to check himself out before leaving. We'll just go out and find the Rake and pretend nothing ever happened."

Toby's mental picture of Jeff still persisted. "And if we don't find him?"

There was silence for a moment. And then another. Finally, Eyeless replied, "Well, if the Rake can't find his own way back here, then we'll buy a flower or something for his funeral."

"Sounds good enough for me."

Toby heard footsteps again, this time coming from the opposite way they came. He strained his hearing for any more gossip, but by the time they started talking again, they were beyond ear's reach.

And once again, he was alone. Just him and the dull hum of a refrigerator that smelled of rotting organs.

He should tell Masky. He should tell the Operator. Eyeless and Jeff were taking advantage of his Master's generosity by conspiring and holding secrets. They had compromised the safety of at least one of the castle's guests.

And of course, if Smile and the Rake weren't just missing, and they were somehow attacked, then that was more than a problem.

Toby twitched. He slipped a gloved hand underneath one of his sleeves. The bandages covering his slowly healing wound remained there, a permanent reminder of what Masky did.

This wasn't the life he was promised.

Nor was it Masky's.

Toby walked back to his bedroom, glad for his scarf to hide his smile.


	10. Chapter 9

"Why do I keep coming here?"

Brian blinked, and blinked again. "Um, because you've been sleeping?" he suggested, leaning his back against the tall tree.

Tim shot him a look. "Yeah, I kinda figured that out," he said. "I mean, why here, of all places? And why with you?" he gestured to the forest surrounding them, and then to his friend.

He shrugged, his hands in his pockets. "Memories, probably. That's part of dreams, isn't it? I don't know, I'm not a sleep expert," he glanced around at the wildlife. "Maybe you should ask Jeff," he chuckled.

There was no fire anymore. There was no ash. In fact, the trees, once dead and bare, were now lush with bright green leaves that seemed to glow in the bright sun.

Tim sighed and stared at his feet. Small bugs marched along the dirt, disregarding him. He was silent for a moment. "I don't like it."

"What?"

He looked up to see his friend's horrified face, pale and shaken. "Being here. With you. Too many bad memories. It's kinda hard to move on when you're reliving it every night."

Eyes wide, Brian spoke shakily, "So want to forget about me?"

Tim began to shake his head, but stopped himself. "Maybe. I don't know. It would probably make things easier," he admitted. "I wish I didn't have to, but what else can I do?"

For a moment, nothing. Then, Brian crossed his arms and frowned. "No. If you forget about me, then what did I die for?"

Tim did not hesitate with his retort. "Hoodie died for the Operator. He was a Proxy. You're just here to drive me insane with guilt."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not real," Brian spoke. The normally jovial man now glared daggers. "And I'm trying to help you."

Tim coughed for a moment, taken aback. "Help me? How is this helping? You think constant nightmares are going to fix this?" He coughed again. "All you're doing is making this harder. I'm just trying to survive, to do my job. If you want to help, then leave me alone!"

Just then, to the surprise of both of them, Brian fell backwards through the tree with a sudden _crack! _Tim instantly ran over to the heap his friend lay in, and knelt down.

Dazed, Brian sat himself upright. He instinctively began to brush the dirt off his beloved hoodie, only to find he was not covered in soil, but flames. He froze, and looked up to the forest. Tim did the same.

Everything was on fire.

With his bare hands, Brian picked up what was once part of the tree he leaned on. Charred and black, with flickering gold. Only seconds ago it had been living flora.

Tim coughed again, exhaling black smoke. "Are you okay?" he asked, though he felt silly saying it. Of course he was, and of course he wasn't.

Brian flicked away the glowing black chunk. "Tim. Masky. You've never been fine on your own. Ever. I know you better than anyone. You need someone to stop you from ruining yourself. And if you can't trust anyone else, you're stuck with the dead guy." He smiled softly, as if to lessen the blow.

Still on the ground, flames easily licked at them both. "I suppose," he sighed, "but this really doesn't seem like what normal people do when their best friend dies."

"But you're not normal," Brian smiled. Tim frowned at him. "Alright," Brian threw his hands up into the smoky air, "Don't think of me as Brian. Or Hoodie. Let's say I'm, um... an abstract representation of, uh, your past sins, and by us staying friends... um, I guess that symbolizes how you've come to terms with what happened. Or something."

Despite the sadness and hellfire, Tim laughed. "That sounds like something right out of the Marble Hornets script. But somehow still with less forced symbolism."

Brian swore under his breath, swatting away a nearby flame. "I was trying to sound smart. Thanks for making me feel bad." But he too was smiling.

Nearby, another tree collapsed. How they didn't notice the forest fire start was a mystery. "Fine," Tim gave in. "I guess these dreams are alright. It's not like I can get any more broken, right?"

The sky darkened, the sun completely shrouded by thick smoke. Somewhere far away, the wildlife they had seen earlier was screaming. Loud.

"Thank you. I promise you won't regret it," Brian lied.


	11. Chapter 10

The castle was grand. There was no denying that. But despite that, Toby expected very little variety in the different rooms, especially considering how identical each hallway was to the other.

He was more than a little shocked when Clockwork informed him that the Operator did, in fact, allow for a gaming room. As in, a room completely designed for video games.

Naturally, he had to see it in action.

"I am going to stab you in the trachea."

Jeff clutched onto his controller with sweaty hands like a sharpened knife. He glared ahead, towards the giant screen, which clearly displayed his defeat.

Sally giggled, hugging Charlie in victory. Everybody else, Toby included, was laughing hysterically at a certain serial killers expense.

"Jeff," Eyeless spoke between snickers. "You have officially been beaten by Princess Peach, Falco, Lucas, Olimar, Donkey Kong, Ganondorf, King Dedede, Kirby, Link, Squirtle, Princess Zelda, and now six times by Jigglypuff. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I say the blind person shouldn't be able to keep track if he can't write all that down," Jeff grumbled. "And I'm going to stab you in the trachea."

Toby felt his laugh falter as he noticed Jeff's hand linger to his pocket. He wondered how many times he had gone through with the threat in that very room.

But he supposed he had no reason to fear Jeff or Eyeless anymore. After all, he knew about the Rake, who mysteriously hadn't returned from hunting days prior. Until he gained similar respect to Masky, he would need to look elsewhere to maintain the hierarchy.

"Hey, Toby?" Clockwork chimed, "You wanna kill Jeff a bit?" she wiggled her Gamecube controller temptingly. Said killer growled something profane.

Toby shook his head. "I don't really have any hand coordination. I'd probably need to train for years just to hold the controller right."

Eyeless held his chin in his hand. "Maybe we can convince Ben to train you. He'd probably have you holding that controller in mere months."

Jeff snorted. "Yeah, if you're willing to put up with the weirdo. Honestly, I'd just stick with sucking."

"Ah," Eyeless groaned, "You're probably right. On second thought, Toby, do yourself a favour and never interact with him. Ever."

Toby stayed silent. He understood very well their distaste for Ben. The words they had exchanged nights ago still haunted him. He touched the cut on his arm, bandage now discarded.

Clockwork tilted her head at him. "Oh, I think it's too late for that. The two of them have already met." Toby looked away from the group, eyes on the wall.

No longer smiling in victory, Sally shot him an empathetic look. "I'm sorry, Toby." To his surprise, Eyeless and Jeff nodded. Toby said nothing.

Jeff twisted around in his seat to see Toby better. "So how'd it go down? You're being pretty quiet about it."

Toby twitched. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. When he opened them again, he saw four people waiting eagerly for him to speak. Four killers.

He sighed. "He said that Masky hates me."

Nobody said a word. People glanced at one another, waiting for someone else to speak. Finally, Jeff replied, "Masky hates everybody."

"No he doesn't," Sally argued. "Don't you remember? He used to come down here sometimes and play." She gestured to the oversized screen, which still idled on her success.

Clockwork frowned. "That wasn't Masky, Sal. But M did come here once in a while. He was just too much of a shut-in to actually play."

"And he isn't now?" Jeff scoffed.

At this point, Toby tuned the others out. Not because he wasn't interested, but because of the many thoughts swimming in his mind. Thoughts about what Ben had told him, and what he had figured out on his own, and what was being kept from him.

People act like Masky changed. As if, even though he was never bright and happy, he was somehow now worse than before. But was that Toby's fault? Or was it someone else, someone hidden in secrecy?

What could be so horrible to scar an experienced Proxy? Or rather, who?

He had to know.

"What happened to the other Proxy?"

Everybody froze.

Nobody said a word. Toby twitched.

Finally, Clockwork whispered, "Who told you?"

Feeling the eyes boring into him, Toby shrugged. "I guess I just figured it out. Didn't know anyone was trying to hide it." He twitched again.

The room never felt so quiet. Jeff glanced at Eyeless, whose head remained tilted to the floor. Sally suddenly found great interest in wiggling her two analog sticks back and forth. Clockwork tugged at the sleeve of her hoodie until she realized that, by speaking, she had accidentally volunteered to carry out the conversation. She whispered a silent curse to herself.

"Look," she sighed, "I'm not gonna pretend that nothing's going on. I'm sorry you found out about it at all. But the thing is, it's not really... safe to talk about."

Toby thought about it for a moment. "But there was another Proxy." A statement, not a question. Clockwork nodded. "And... what? He died?" Clockwork hesitated for a moment, glanced around, and only then gave a small nod.

Toby blinked, and twitched. "Do... do people not usually die around here? I mean, I thought a castle full of killers would be used to it."

Jeff, Eyeless, and Sally stared longingly at the door, clearly looking for an excuse to walk through it. "People die all the time. We kill each other more often than we're friendly. But this is different."

"Why?" Toby pressed on. He could see how uncomfortable Clockwork looked. It made part of him ache, but he had to know.

Clockwork breathed in deeply. "Because... because Masky, and Slenderman, um, they..." she trailed off. Eventually she closed her mouth and hugged her body tightly, her face a bright red. She glanced away from him.

Toby looked towards the other three, who all found respective parts of the wall to hold their interest. Even Eyeless, despite his obvious handicap, feigned his disinterest.

Accepting his defeat, Toby sighed audibly, stood up, and plodded towards the door. When his gloved hand clenched the brass doorknob, it was Sally that spoke up. "Hey, where are you going?"

Toby froze for only a moment. "Just going for a walk," he brushed off, and left the room before another word could be said. If he had any luck, they would assume he had just gotten uncomfortable. Which was not false.

But really, what he was doing was much more vaulting, and much more stupid. But it had to be done. He was a Proxy. If there was something going on in that castle, it was not his right but his duty to know about it.

And if he had to, he would ask the only person willing to tell him.


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: I made this chapter a tad longer than usual to make up for the fact that there will be a hiatus after this. I'm sorry/your welcome, depending on how you feel about that. I hate finals.**

He didn't bother knocking. He doubted it would matter. There was no reason he wouldn't be greeted to the same scene as nights before: a dead child with his back to the door, blackened eyes glued to an old television screen. In fact, he was sure it was always the same scene. Night after night, just playing that game over and over in a long and slow eternity.

He was mistaken.

Ben was gone. The glow of the television still illuminated the room blearily, but the game itself had been left on its pause screen. The controller, while still plugged in, had been carefully packed out of the way.

And positioned in front of the flickering screen were two wooden chairs, facing each other politely. The faint lighting of the television cast long shadows against them.

Toby walked forward, running his fingers along the length of one chair's cresting rail. He frowned. There was no way he was gone. It had to be a trap.

"Welcome back."

Toby whipped his head around. The young boy in green stood next to the only door, expression blank as always. He hadn't heard the door open or close, and doubted it had at all.

Toby stood his ground, determined to not be intimidated by the child. He didn't bother wasting time. "There's something I need to ask you," he said, leaning against the wooden chair.

The boy kept his blank gaze. "I know. I've been waiting." He started walking, his steps slow yet purposeful, to the chair opposite to him. "Sit."

Hearing the commanding tone, Toby shot him an icy look, but still obliged. No point in making enemies, especially with the undead.

The two sat across from each other, eye to eye. Ben's gaze remained perfectly neutral, as if he was not actually looking at Toby, but something slightly beyond. He seemed bored.

Toby exhaled, keeping steady eye contact. "I want to know what happened to the other Proxy. And I want to know what happened to Masky."

A nod, hardly a nod. On anyone else, it would be overlooked, but on Ben's statue-like form, every miniscule movement was meaningful.

His shining pupils bore brightly into him. "I am willing to cooperate. But I have my terms."

Toby ignored the pit in his stomach, trying to replicate the child's stony expression. "What's that?" he asked.

Ben said nothing for a while, though his face remained the same. Finally, he spoke, "That will be discussed later. But I do think my requests will be reasonable. Do we have a deal?"

Everything in Toby's mind was screaming '_No!' a_nd '_Run now, you idiot!' _and whatever else his conscious could use to get him out of the situation. Ben could not be trusted. Even other serial killers thought unfavourably of him. He could easily be signing his life away to the devil, or something worse.

But what other choice did he have? Secrets were being kept from him. Secrets surrounding the person who was meant to be his partner and mentor through thick and thin. His curiosity was insatiable without proper treatment. He knew he would be eaten alive by it otherwise.

Toby frowned. "It's a deal," he said begrudgingly.

He stuck his hand out between them for Ben to shake. The boy eyed it for a moment, the glow of his eye shifting towards it. But just as he expected him to sneer in disgust, he instead reached out and shook it. His skin felt tender yet cold. Not like ice, but like a person who just climbed out of cool water.

"I'm not a very trusting person," Ben warned, "I hope you realize that if anything leaves this room, I will make you suffer."

Toby nodded. Oddly, the threat did little to intimidate him. Like it never needed to be spoken at all. "Likewise."

Faster than a blink, Toby swore he saw Ben smile. But before he could do a double take, his face had returned to its neutral stare. "His name was Hoodie."

Toby raised a questioning brow. "You mean, like, as in the sweater?" What an odd name. But he supposed it was no more odd than some other names he had heard over the past few days. His childhood nickname hardly stung at all anymore.

Ben nodded. "Exactly. His real name was Brian Thomas. And Masky's name is Tim, if you're curious, but that's common knowledge," he said matter-of-factly. Toby tumbled the information around in his head. Masky's real name was Tim? For some reason, he was surprised. He had never really thought about who he was behind the mask, before he became a Proxy. Somehow, it made him seem more human.

While Toby pondered on this, Ben continued. "The two were close. Very close. The kind of friendship that shouldn't exist in real life. The kind where you wonder how they survived alone. I would say it was pathetic, their constant dependance. But many times, they were unstoppable. And I am not one to exaggerate."

_And now he's gone, _Toby thought grimly. Was that why Masky acted so... cold? Distant? Impassive? He didn't know how to describe the masked man yet, but he clearly was not a happy person. But if it was because he lost his other half, he could definitely relate to the feeling.

Ben stayed perfectly fixed in his seat, still as death. "The real story behind Hoodie's death is long. Most people around here don't bother to find the details." Once again Ben smiled, but this time he did not try to hide it, instead letting it linger just long enough to be noticed. He looked younger when he smiled, Toby noticed. Not a day over 13 for sure. Perhaps the very reason he never did it. "But it was Masky's fault."

It took Toby a moment to register the words. "What?" he said in disbelief.

Once again, Ben stared blankly, his red pupils reflecting on his own orange goggles. "Or just as much as Lyra's death was yours."

The air turned cold.

Toby's ears became infected by the heavy _thump-a thump-a thump-a _as his stomach twisted tightly around itself. Already he felt his hands shaking more than ever, rattling the wooden chair. Short, shallow breaths caught against his scarf as he forced himself to keep looking the boy in the eye, despite every instinct he had.

Ben's eyes flickered. "Don't bother. Ghosts learn useful skills over time. I know all." Whether he meant knowing all about being a ghost, or all about Toby, he chose not to guess.

Swallowing hard, Toby tried hard to keep his composure. But it suddenly became difficult when the thought of Lyra infected his thoughts. "She, um, how did he..." he trailed off uncomfortably.

As usual, Ben kept his deadpan stare. "I said it was long, not worth telling. It was Masky's fault, to a degree. That's all you need."

Toby sighed audibly. He couldn't shake the feeling that, even now, he was being played, and withholding the information was a strategic move. It would eat at him, he knew, until he finally found out. But he knew he was lucky to get any information at all out of the boy, so he let it be. "Well, is there anything else you can tell me?" he said, still trying to be diplomatic enough despite the unease.

Ben drummed his pale fingers on the arms of his chair. "Do I tell?" he said silently, as if to himself, but clearly wanted the teen to hear. Everything he did was calculated, down to the tiniest of his movements.

Toby breathed in slowly, his heart finally calmed down after the mention of _her. _"We've already agreed, Ben. You have to tell me."

The air felt chilled. "No I don't. But I will," Ben said dully, always prepared to reclaim the upper hand of the conversation. The television made the side of his face flicker with dull light, which he paid no mind to. Likely used to it, after staring at it day after day.

The room was quiet for a moment. Toby bit his tongue, careful not to say anything wrong. Finally, Ben spoke. "Masky is a broken Proxy," he said bluntly.

Toby raised a brow. "What?" he repeated himself. Those words made little sense. Could he be implying... no, it couldn't be. The Operator would never keep anyone who was not perfect for the job. Otherwise, there would be more than two.

"He's been a Proxy for too long. It broke him," Ben clarified in a bored tone. "He's been a Proxy since he was a child. His mind built an immunity. Makes him unreliable." For the first time, Ben shifted in his seat subtly. Was he letting his guard down, or trying to get Toby to lower his?

Toby stayed as still as possible, hoping, somehow, it would reverse their roles and give him the upper hand. "So, what? Is he... dying, or something?" he stumbled over his words. He mentally cursed himself, but tried to play it off.

"Not physically," Ben explained. "His mind is constantly alternating between Proxy and human, Masky and Tim. And Tim has found ways to stay as Tim, through medicine and mental strength. A constant power struggle."

A second passed. Toby narrowed his eyes in thought, trying to make sense of this information. It seemed that Masky had much more happening inside his head than he ever thought before. Any bitterness he may have had towards the masked man was slowly being replaced by pity – and fear. For if it happened to Masky, it could just as well happen to a person as weak-willed as himself.

And to not be a Proxy, if only for a moment, was something to fear with passion.

"So what are you saying?" Toby trembled slightly, "He has a split personality?" He wondered if there were two voices in his head, constantly arguing with one another for control. He twitched.

"No," Ben said deadpan, "Or yes. From what I know, the two are the same in personality. Just different motivations. Think who you used to be."

"That's... confusing," Toby said, and instantly regretted. "But I get it," he added, as to not seem stupid. He always hated being thought of as unintelligent, but it was an impression he always seemed to live up to. Sometimes he could blame his Tourettes, but that often made him seem crazy instead. He could never really win in the end.

"Of course," Ben said, voice still level yet clearly unconvinced. "If you think of them as different people, it was Tim's fault Hoodie died," he clarified, but did not expound on. Toby didn't pressure him. "He is the Ark, whether he admits it or not."

His brain already filled with surprising information, Toby almost considered not asking, but knew he had to. "What's the Ark?" he asked.

"Symbolic," he said blankly, eyes steady and face still.

Toby sighed deeply. "You're not going to tell me, are you?" But he didn't need to ask, for he already knew the answer was no. The real question was why it was brought up in the first place. Toby could have pressed for more, but at that point he was done.

He'd already gotten more information than he expected. That was almost a good thing. But nothing had been free.

"So," he said, "Are you going to tell me what you'll do to me now?" he asked, trying to hide his slight dread. At no point did he forget the unknown cost to all he had received. He only hoped it wouldn't anger the Operator. If there was any line he would never cross, it was that.

Ben nodded. "Stay here," he commanded, not moving from his seat. And before Toby could say anything, he was gone.

He vanished quickly, the air around the room instantly changing. It felt as if a strange surge of unfamiliar energy subtly emerged, and quickly disappeared. And then Toby was alone, just him and an empty chair, the glow of the paused game his only comfort.

He rubbed his cold hands together, glancing around. Again, his mind tried to make him run, but he didn't. He knew he should. But where would he go? Where could he hide? Would the Operator protect him from the ghost child after knowing what he had done? Would Masky?

Had he doomed himself just by walking into the room?

Yes. Definitely. He only hoped that what he learned would be worth whatever punishment was in store. If only he could have let it go, just ignored his nagging curiosity.

And then Ben appeared again without lavish, as if he never left. He held out a small white piece of paper with crooked writing on it. Toby took it warily.

On the paper was an address. The town was unfamiliar to him, as was the exact location. The only thing he knew by looking at it was that it was somewhere in Alabama, a state he had never visited before in his life.

Toby looked up at the boy quizzically. "What's this?" he asked, tapping the card with his gloved finger.

"Things are getting dangerous, Toby," Ben explained, "Even for me. And I have a feeling worlds will be falling soon. I trust my intuition. What I need is insurance. A fail-safe. Something to keep me at ease." Somehow, Ben's voice seemed to hold more emotion than ever, though his tone still sounded steady and flat.

The young Proxy stared at the card, trying to wrack his brain for any significance to the location. "So what do you want me to do?"

Ben was as still as ever, like a marble statue. "If anything happens to me – and you'll know when – I want you to go there."

Toby glanced up at the ghost again, still recognizing nothing in the address. "And then what?" he asked, feeling the tight know in his stomach. Whatever he was to do, it couldn't be good.

Ben smiled. "Play the song of time."

And then he vanished for good.

**Lyra is from the Creepypasta _Ticci Toby_**

_**If you have any problems finding a certain character's original story, feel free to let me know so I can help you find it :)**_


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